Poetry

THE SHED

By 18th January 2008December 9th, 2019No Comments

I opened the door of the shed today,

I couldn’t get in, I have to say

I moved a box, a wee little bit,

Dislodged a hammer, my foot was hit

Words came out, I shouldn’t have said

I ought to be thankful; it was my foot, not head

I could almost get in, not so long ago,

I stepped over things ,with head held low

It was quite easy, to avoid all harm

Just hold elbow up, protect head with arm

One slip, a slight move or feint

Down off the shelf, a tin of paint

More horror and pain and I start to flee

Electric drill, swinging down on my knee

Avoiding this, as quick as I could

Splinter in hand, from old plank of wood

Making haste, right out of the door

Good Red blood dripping on to the floor

It’s no good, I will not hide

I’ll tidy the shed, so I can get in side

I’ll walk about in the normal way

Such a job will only take a day

I will throw out screws and jars of nails

Bits of timber and curtain rails

I will not flinch or moan or drip

I’ll take all the rubbish to the tip

Your full support is all I ask

To me this is an enormous task

I know in the end, it is I who gain

But think of all the mental strain

To think of this, I grow quite weak

And the tidy job, will only last a week

Is the answer, to clear every corner?

Pay out some cash and Install a SAUNA

David Killelay

Author David Killelay

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